But the problem is to make the soul into a monster
Life is the farce which everyone has to perform.
One evening I sat Beauty on my knees – And I found her bitter – And I reviled her.
True alchemy lies in this formula: ‘Your memory and your senses are but the nourishment of your creative impulse’.
It was the voice of mad seas, roaring immense,/ That shattered your infant breast, too soft, too human.
True life is elsewhere